"Mr. Almatto! You have to stop, oh God!"
Draken delivered one last wallop to a hot, plump cheek, then lingered in a soothing caress. Charli knew she must be so, so sore, but every nerve in her body was twanging in harmony with the pulses of the painful throbs from her bottom.
Then came the words that froze her in place.
"Matthew, is there anything like a paddle in here?"
"Down on thirty-six, maybe." Matthew said steadily. "Do you want me to look for one?"
"Well, our mascot's pussy is going ballistic on my cock at the moment, so yes. Might as well put a wooden one down on your to-buy list for our next meeting as well."
"Oh, please," Charli cringed as the door clicked shut behind Matthew.
"He'll be back soon with something with a little more bite, Ms. Fontina," Draken said. "Christ. Your pussy, Charli. What you do with that pussy when you're getting disciplined. And what I do for you. That fucking stings." He shook his hand out.
"I can't believe—Mr. Almatto, do you think I want to be spanked?"
"Charli, baby, my lap is saturated, you like it so much." He forced up her chin for a deep mouth kiss that steamed up her liquid parts, ending with a sharp nip on her lip.
"What was that for?" she said raggedly.
"For being too fucking perfect." He smacked her ass so hard she leaped up several inches on his cock. "Sucking me off to perfection. Obeying me to perfection. Fucking me to perfection. The perfect fuck toy." Smack. Smack. Smack.
"Draken!"
"Well, almost perfect. What's my name, Charli?"
"Mr. Almatto! Ah, don't—" because now he was pinching her nipple so fiercely she winced, until pleasure burst in her core. Then she sobbed.
"You have your instructions, Ms. Fontina. I don't care if my dry cleaner calls me Draken—you get to call me Mr. Almatto. Fail to follow the rules and you get a very sweet punishment."
Which meant in this case more pinching, also twisting and yanking.
Of the same nipple.
She couldn't help herself. She started humping him frantically.
It was so shamefully obvious what effect his savaging of her nipple had on her that she covered her face with both hands. "I can't like this," she moaned. "I'm not like all those other women you're with."
He laughed softly. "News flash. You've well surpassed them. You have more kinks than a chain-link fence, darling."
"I'm not kinky! It's just because of—" She didn't finish. She didn't say you.
"Because of?"
"My hormones!" she wailed.
He started laughing. "You're leaping around like a jumping bean on my dick, praying for an orgasm because of hormones? For that you get to beg."
"B—beg?"
"If you want to come again today."
No orgasm? He wouldn't. "Please, Mr. Almatto, you can't not let me—I mean, I have to come."
"But did you earn it, darling?"
"I earned it, Mr. Almatto." She was aware she was sniveling, but at this point she was past caring. She squirmed on him. "Please, please, dammit, please. I did everything you said! Before didn't count! I want to come on your cock!"
"Then show me how badly you need it," he said thickly. "Fuck me, Charli, harder than you've ever fucked a man. Ride me with your tits bobbing so fast they never come down, and I'll consider letting you come again today. But first, don't forget your job."
"J—job?"
He tapped her phone pointedly.
Oh, hell. Now she had to check her scheduling app while impaled on him. Concentrating on dates and times and appointments was murder, especially with Draken flexing his cock inside her and wringing her nipples. On top of that Matthew entered while she was doing it. She twisted her head around to see what he had unearthed.
Panic.
"Hey, you're not using that on me!" as a black object sailed past her.
Draken caught the implement in mid-air. "Shh, it's just plastic. Thin plastic at that."
"You'll like it better than a palm, Ms. Fontina," Matthew assured her. "The caterers use it for serving cakes at luncheons. It will pack a nice sting but it won't bruise you."
"How do you know? "
Matthew smiled charmingly.
"Ah!" she yelped at the test swat Draken promptly delivered.
"Get galloping if you want that bonus orgasm," he prodded. "Show Matthew how hard you can ride a cock."
"Oh, but—ah!" Because Draken's wrist began flicking the spatula in tiny whap—whap—whaps that came so fast she couldn't distinguish one blow from another. These were much lighter blows than before with his hand, but they stung possibly more.
Panicked that she might not get her orgasm, fired by the almost constant stings on her ass, Charli moaned and began bobbing frenetically. She'd never moved so fast in her life. She felt ridiculous at first; then her pussy caught fire and began to clench, clench with every penetration, every sting on her ass.
"Fucking gorgeous," Draken said, his gaze on her breasts. "How hot is that, Matthew?"
"Too damn," Matthew said ruefully.
There were a few minutes of silence while the men savored Charli's energetic performance on Draken's cock. Her breasts were flying. The sweat began to pour off her. Pretty soon her thighs and abs started to burn and she started to blabber for relief. Draken's own body began to shake as his control wavered.
Then Matthew sighed regretfully. "Ms. Fontina, are you available next Monday morning? Or is mid-week better for you?"
Draken's voice was rough. "Answer my assistant, Ms. Fontina."
"I—can't," she gurgled. "Oh God, I'm coming! I can't stop!"
"Better not, baby." Draken restrained her and ceased whipping her ass.
"Ah—ah—yes," she choked. "Monday. Fine. Please, Mr. Almatto, oh, please."
"Wait until the urge to come passes," he instructed. "Then start up again. I'm liking being ridden by your little pussy. I'll tell you when I've had enough."
"O—okay," she sobbed.
While Charli's bottom and pussy reached a new level of torment, Matthew worked efficiently, quickly booking her into Draken's schedule. "Got it," he said finally. "Ms. Fontina, it's been a true pleasure. You're an absolute delight and I look forward to seeing you again next week. Draken, I'll see you tomorrow, unless you need anything further from me tonight...?"
"Charli, do you need anything further from Matthew?"
"N—no!"
She heard Draken say something in a low voice and Matthew respond. She got the vague sense Matthew was leaving. Beyond that, she couldn't register anything but Draken's shaft in her pussy and the glowing heat of her ass.
Abruptly, Charli couldn't handle any more. Frenziedly, she tried to smash her clitoris against him.
"Don't hurt yourself, baby."
Charli grew aware he'd stopped smacking her bottom. Everything had stopped. She found herself staring into his intensely piercing blue eyes.
"I'm about to lose it, Ms. Fontina," Draken growled. "That was the hottest fuck I've ever had in my fucking life. You've earned your reward. Now beg me. Give me good words, baby."
"Please Mr. Almatto. I'm begging you, please, I have to, I have to come, I can't bear to wait for a whole week, oh, please..."
You're slobbering. You're a mess. If he's just teasing you after all and he says no you'll never recover...
"What a fucking angel you are, Charli. Yes, of course you can come." His hands jerked her hips forward at an angle that pushed her right over the edge. She screamed.
It was beyond perfect.
Beyond ecstasy.
To be so afraid it wouldn't happen...to have it happen...to have Draken shout and hold her close and praise her as he came inside her at the same time...
And the convulsions rippling through her pussy wouldn't let her go. They wouldn't. Stop. The pain was gone. Everything was lovely. She was wringing him out.
Lovely.
Bliss.
Better than her favorite dessert. Or winning that prom
otion. Certainly better than she thought an orgasm could be.
Hormones.
Maybe not.
The afterward was less wonderful.
"Did—was it good for you? Mr. Almatto?" she managed finally.
There was a moment of dead silence, except for the air they were both blowing in and out of their lungs. Then Draken chuckled. "Yeah, it'll do. You...shit, Charli. How am I going to last until next Monday?" He began dropping kisses on her forehead and temples.
Charli found she wanted to cry. Discreetly she wiped her cheek on the soft fabric covering his chest. "Will you at least talk to me this time?" she burst out.
Draken leaned back, eyes narrowing in question.
"Instead of just Matthew emailing me. I know I'm only a diversion for you, but...what about exchanging a few real words? I know—I know—you don't want a relationship with me. And you're the last person I'd want one with. Except you're sort of an interesting person, Mr. Almatto. I just want to...to know more about the man who's fucking me."
His face had hardened. "Like what?" he demanded.
"Like—I don't know, like how on earth did you come to own an office tower? I mean, seriously. You're only a few years older than me and it would never occur to me to buy a freaking skyscraper if I had millions and billions of dollars. And what's the story with Matthew? And were you really engaged once? And why do you like cats better than dogs, or is that just a rumor? I mean, you have to admit dogs are way more loyal, and they don't shed nearly as much—"
A muscle twitched in his cheek as he eased her away from him, pulling out of her body and settling her on her feet so she wobbled precariously. "We are not doing this, Charli."
But she was on a roll. "Mr. Almatto, couldn't you pretend to talk to me like a person instead of a—a—fuck toy? And for goodness sake, what's the problem with my calling you Draken?"
"No, because you are a fuck toy," Draken Almatto said coolly. "As for my name, the problem is that you need reminding of your role in my life. Just because I stalk you I don't want you thinking idiotic romantic thoughts. If you're curious about me, you can find out everything you want to know on social media, or ask my assistant."
"Well, fine, then!"
His eyes blazed at her. In contrast, his words were chilly. "All right. I think we're done here today. Good work, Ms. Fontina. My staff is happy, and you and I both got two mind-blowing orgasms. We now know you can handle a lot more than I've been dishing out. I think everything's set. I'll email you your instructions for the rest of this week until we meet again on Monday. Send me a confirmation when you receive them."
"Great! Whatever! Will you—will you at least tell me what they are before I go?"
"Check your email. Thanks, Ms. Fontina. Dismissed."
Charli's Radically Robotic Audition
by
Amanda Richensexi
Prologue
TO: Charli Fontina
FROM: Draken Almatto
SUBJECT: Meeting Monday 9/19
Ms. Fontina,
I'm sure you know how satisfied I was with Wednesday's meeting. The consensus here is that you make a delightful naked mascot. I admit it did end on a bit of a sour note between us, but the end result is we understand each other better now. It's quite simple. You're a contract worker and I'm your client, and our arrangement is for our mutual gratification. There's nothing personal there.
In any case...Matthew informs me he confirmed with you that you're still interested in continuing with our arrangement and your next bare-bottomed performance will be on Monday.
To reiterate, as meeting mascot, your primary role is to lift the spirits of my male staff during meetings. Compensation, as before, will be in the form of orgasm(s). Multiple orgasms will be doled out only if you go above and beyond your strictest duties.
As promised, here are the instructions to be followed until then:
1) Part of being a mascot for ATS is reserving all your sexual enthusiasm for us, the employees and management of Almatto Tech Sport. I refer of course, my luscious Ms. Fontina, to a status update I caught on your social profile in which you indicated you were going out Friday night for drinks with a "new guy I met in my office building." Cancel that. Dating is not allowed.
2) As usual, you may not have an orgasm outside of your meetings here at Almatto Tech. The consequences of disobedience are, as always, the termination of our arrangement.
3) Although orgasms are forbidden, I want you to make a concerted effort to keep yourself pre-orgasmic. That means in a constant state of near-fulfillment. Your clitoris should be desiring stimulation 24/7. Your cunt should feel achingly hollow and empty. It's important that when you arrive at Seven Tech Tower on Monday, you're incredibly aroused to the point of being the sweet, stammering, pleading fuck toy we all know and like―from the moment you cross the threshold.
Please acknowledge receipt of these instructions.
Respectfully,
Draken Almatto
CEO, Almatto Tech Sport
TO: Draken Almatto
FROM: Charli Fontina
RE: Meeting Monday 9/19
Mr. Almatto,
I received your instructions, you ass.
I am still interested, but with RESERVATIONS. SEVERE reservations.
I intended to make my profile private when you told me you were stalking me. But then you sent me a friend request and like a fool I accepted it. Do you have any idea how many more people are friending me now? It's insane. I have no idea who these people are but they are now posting on my wall and asking me all sorts of questions about this wealthy dude I barely know―that would be YOU―and all my REAL friends who had no idea I even KNEW you are now asking me all these questions. And not only that but you're STILL stalking me even though we have now met in person.
Tell me again, why do I put up with this?
Oh, and no dating? So let me get this straight. You wouldn't have me as a girlfriend, because you don't trust any woman enough to date her, but you don't want any other man to date me? Fairly dog in the manger don't you think? What, then, am I supposed to just stop my social life as long as you lust after me?
Why can't I have an orgasm? Why? Not your usual BS response. Really―why?
And how do you recommend I keep myself in this "pre-orgasmic" state for the length of time you specify? It's four whole days away.
Disrespectfully,
-Charli
TO: Charli Fontina
FROM: Draken Almatto
RE: Meeting Monday 9/19
Ms. Fontina,
You're quite defiant when you're not in the same room with me, aren't you?
Accept my apologies about your profile becoming a public feeding ground. I feel your pain. You think it's bad being stalked by a wealthy dude, try being said wealthy dude―I have it a thousand times worse, I promise you. The solution is simple, baby: alter your privacy settings. I can get Matthew to help you with that.
Regarding the girlfriend matter―I'm glad you understand the situation so perfectly. You're a fuck toy. My fuck toy. Pretty much my ideal fuck toy, but still just a fuck toy.
Why do you put up with it, you ask? Because you're a slave to your dripping pussy, just as I'm a slave to my raging cock insofar as you're concerned. But for emotional support, I suggest you weep on your friend Rani's shoulders.
You are certainly allowed a social life. Feel free to engage in platonic activities with friends and coworkers. I will now insist that you state publicly that you are otherwise sexually committed. You can mention me or not, as you wish. Just make it clear your pussy is locked in a virtual chastity belt and only one man has the key.
You are not permitted an orgasm except under my supervision because―isn't it obvious? you relish being controlled, and I relish controlling you. And too, sweet fuck toy, I want to witness all your orgasms close up. They're too darling to miss.
As to the matter of keeping yourself on the edge of orgasm, I would be very disappointed to find you were not in
that state when I see you next. Besides which, I treasure being able to pause in the middle of a hectic day and envision you slippery wet wherever you are, rubbing your silky thighs together to quell the zing in your pussy.
Thus in the interests of assisting you, let me tell you about some things I imagine doing:
Lifting your legs over my shoulders and licking that distended clit of yours, catching all those trickles of juice before they run down your ass. Vibrating my tongue until you come, and come, and come, making those surprised little choking sounds I love to hear. Having had just a taste of it, I've jerked off many times thinking about eating your blindingly gorgeous pussy. (It really is spectacular. I wonder if you've ever considered becoming a pussy model...? The little matter of your diminutive height shouldn't make a difference when the camera's zoomed between your legs.)
Tying you down so you can't move, then kissing every freckle from your head to your feet. Of course you'd be naked except for your glasses.
While you're tied and spreadeagled, I'd take a very fine artist's brush and dip it into the endless well of wet between your legs and paint your arms, your fingers, your chest, and those big, pointy nipples. I'd go down your thighs and legs, returning often to dab your clit―my own personal paint tap, because in all honesty, Charli, I've never seen it run dry. By the time I finish painting your toes, you'll be writhing and sobbing. An adorable, wiggling fuck toy hungry to be filled. So pretty.
Raising your bountiful ass in the air and parting your cheeks wide, then pushing my cock into that tiny puckered pink hole. If your cunt is tight, and it is, then I can only imagine what your asshole feels like. And I do. Imagine it, that is. There's a lot I imagine doing to you. Like...
Her Alpha Lover: A Draken and Charli Boxed Set Page 11